Abner returned to Herbert, and frankly related the conversation that had taken place between himself and his father.
Herbert was shocked. He did not know what to think of the singular family he had got into.
“You won't do it, will you?” he asked, startled.
“No, I won't. I want a quarter bad enough, but I'd rather mam would keep the money. She'll spend it for vittles, and dad would spend it for drink. Wouldn't you like to go a-fishin'? It's fine weather, and we'll have fun.”
Herbert assented, not knowing how to dispose of his time. Abner turned the conversation again on New York. What Herbert had already told him had powerfully impressed his imagination.
“Haven't you got any money?” he asked.
“No,” answered Herbert. “Mr. Ford took away all I had, except this.”
He drew from his pocket a nickel.
“That won't do no good,” said Abner, disappointed. “Stop a minute, though,” he added, after a minute's pause. “Wouldn't your folks send you some money, if you should write to them?”
“Yes,” answered Herbert, his face brightening. “Why didn't I think of that before? If I could get me paper and ink I'd write at once to papa. I know he'd either send the money or come for me.”